Maze-men

I grew up being told what to do and how to do it.  For so long I worked to the pleasure of the people around me and those in authority over me.  Somewhere along the way I lost a firm sense of what I actually like. Rarely do I know what I want.  I refrain from having an opinion about things.  If I have answers they are so deeply repressed in me I cannot unearth them.

I know I love my wife. I know Jesus is the Christ. I know science is my end. I know I love motorcycles. Nothing on the 'significant' stuff whatever that is.

I have 'trained' to be a maze-man. I go where the path leads. When its blocked I turn around and redo the section until I make it out.  One of my favorite verses is Psalm 95:5, "You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me."  My comprehension of this text, in conjunction with Acts 17:26, the Lord determined where I would be born, when and where I would live in every stage of my life.  The verse in Psalms says to me in addition to determining my bounds the Lord directs which way I go.  You know the adage, "When God closes a door, He opens a window"?  That is exactly how maze-men live, we go along the corridor path and look out for exits.

The goods on maze-men is we learn to trust and hopefully settle in that trust.  The bad is we have no idea how to deal with more than one exit.  And when someone asks for an opinion, we have none.  Maybe it's just me.

Is it acceptable?  I am not sure.  Maybe for a season, not thirty odd years; it's ridiculous at that stage!  Isn't it?  How does one fix it? Is it even something that needs to be fixed?

Father was right

My error was not trying to prove him wrong, instead I settled for proving him right.  I have done it!

He always said I was lazy.  Never could do well enough to meet his standards.  So like the 'good' son, I decided, "Who am I to make him a liar?  I will show him he is right."  All the work I have done for him was out of obedience, maybe part of me wanted him to take those words back. 

All the work I did since him was work I did  for me, I was going to be the lazy success.  When I think I overwork something (it happens!) I wonder if I am trying to disprove him. 

At the end of the day, I am convinced I am lazy.  He won, but I do not behave like a lazy person, I work hard, and get a lot done.  My leisure is riddled with guilt; I am never sure if it is beneficial guilt or painful scars.  He explained, it was to inspire me.  I responded, it broke me.  He replied it inspired others.  I repeated it broke me.  We circled that drain until I shrugged, oh well.  I think I wanted an apology but knew I would never get it.

You do not hold on to hurts, or else they keep hurting.  But at times we have held onto them so close they are all we have.  It is so sad when you befriend pain, but Christ comes in and He will take that away too.  Then He gives you the gall to forgive, the bravery to love in return and embrace the source of your pain.  It's slow going, but all things that last are.  Trees remain after the bushfire, the old trees, while grass, flowers and saplings die.

You did your best, I respect that and I will love you for it, for you and for Him.  Father was right.

The Elusive Ment-gasm

I got close today; yes that is how I will start.

My twisted friend defined the mentgasm simply as a mental orgasm, a euphoria secondary to intellectual stimulation.  Mentgasms occur in conversations and epiphanies, solo or aided.  I have found this a rare gift.  Unfortunately for me, most things are not stimulating.  This is the reason I so long for school and more school - mental stimulation.  It is rarely at work, at home, at church; it is rarely anywhere I am.

Now, granted, I have a tendency to return conversations to the 'shallow end' by wise-cracking.  Depth is intriguing but tends to foster a form of intimacy I do not always want to allow.  In a manner of speaking, I think some mentgasms occur in the sharing of guarded information.  I guard very well, and for a friendless fellow guard too closely the contents of my uninterested life.  Hence the elusive mentgasm.  It is like my sense on procreation, I want it to happen even though I do everything to impede it.

I spent the evening with the international graduate student group from school.  A group of strangers (Kenya, Zimbabwe, S.Korea, Vietnam, Singapore and Afghanistan) met in a (perfect place-) local International house of pancakes (oh the non-irony!) and discussed individual and national histories.  We discussed geopolitics and culture differences.  Nationalism and the lack thereof.  There were books mentioned, we compared towns, cities, backgrounds, events.  It was great.  It was new, but it was old and familiar.  I felt like I belonged away from here again.

There is still one mentgasm I seek, one so close yet so far.